


Stay With Me

by bluerose5



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Gore, Dark fic, Emotional Support, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Organized Crime, POV Changes, POV Third Person, Protective Reyes, Protectiveness, Recovery, Revenge, Team Bonding, Torture, in-game fic, stand alone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 02:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11027013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Reyes was trying to be a better man for Scott. He truly was. But when someone decided that it was okay to kidnap him, to lay their filthy hands on him, and to hurt him... Well, surely you couldn't blame him for what happened next...(IMPORTANT A/N: Read ALL tags before reading this fic. While no rape technically happens, it is a close thing, and I have marked the sections where the torture gets explicit. Also, the torture scene isn't directed towards Scott. Just FYI.)





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> [Based on the numerous prompts out there that want to see Reyes lose his shit over a hurt Scott. Of course, my mind just had to go overboard on this.]
> 
> LAST WARNING: This fic contains rape/non-con elements and explicit descriptions of torture. If this triggers you in any way, please click the back button. If you do decide to read, do so at your own discretion.

Scott always considered himself a good man.

Well, in Lexi’s words, he was too “impulsive,” always acting on others’ behalves, even without all of the available information. Oh, it wasn’t like the talk was all bad, though. She repeatedly complimented him on his “logical, analytical mind” and sometimes found his casual, humorous attitude amusing… Only sometimes.

It was just his endless trust and unrestrained ambition that had the potential to get him into trouble. According to their resident psychoanalyst, he was always stretching himself too thin, performing everything from the most significant missions to the most mundane tasks. Simply put, Scott literally carried the weight of all of Heleus’s problems on his back, no matter how big or how small. Thus, desiring to be this god-like savior that the people viewed him as, he worked almost non-stop to deliver the cluster to them on a silver platter, to make them a home, and then took any failure as a personal blow to his character —apparently a side effect from growing up with a strict perfectionist as a father. Funny how that kind of childhood, one in which someone was always reaching but never good enough, could shape a person.

However, even knowing these blatant flaws, Scott simply couldn’t deny anyone that asked him for help. If it was within his capabilities, he would do all he could to assist. End of story.

Which led to this current predicament that he was in.

At that point, it had been like every other stop at Kadara before then. Scott docked, traded a bit, ran some errands, fought some bad guys, and relaxed and unwound when it was all said and done. The only difference was that Reyes Vidal was in charge, leading vigilantly from the shadows, under the guise of the whole “Charlatan” persona. Of course, that only made things worse, now that Scott looked back at the situation. Scott had grown bold —one could even say arrogant— from having his lover operating in such high places. When word got around about how the Charlatan had a soft spot for the human Pathfinder, Scott strutted throughout the Port as if that knowledge had somehow made him invincible, privileged him from the criminal reality that plagued Kadara. It was nice to be in someone else’s terrain, to have _them_ take charge, while Scott dallied around aimlessly.

Then came Scott’s next mistake. Upon his arrival back at the Port from the Badlands, he divested himself of his armor, practically begging trouble to come and find him. Naively dressing in some baggy sweats and a hoodie, hiding his face and body from appraisal, he roamed carelessly around the glowing city, only a sidearm attached to his person for protection. And, for awhile, his measly disguise worked. With night blanketing the radiant Port in darkness, obscuring everyone’s eyesight, people just wrote him off as another citizen, Scott cherishing every single second that he appeared to blend seamlessly in with the crowd.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a fun night if things didn’t go south.

Because, at that moment, reveling in his supposed anonymity, Scott had heard shuffling and arguing come from a nearby alley, a woman’s dismayed voice abruptly cut off with a loud _smack_. Glancing around, Scott noticed that most people continued along, pointedly minding their own business, even when a faint, hoarse _“help”_ called out, followed by another slap and some swearing.

Concerned and confused, confused as to why nobody was helping the lady, Scott shuffled through the crowd and towards the nearby wall, clinging to it as he made his way to the mouth of the alleyway. Pulling his weapon out, peeking around the corner curiously, Scott’s blood began to boil when he saw the woman on the ground, a man looming threateningly over her. Controlled only by rage at this abusive display, letting his temper get the best of him, Scott fully entered the alley, weapon raised and ready.

“Hey!” Scott called out. “Leave her alone!”

And then the damnedest thing had happened. Without any fight or resistance, other than a muttered curse thrown at Scott, the man ran towards the other end of the alley, vanishing out of sight within seconds, leaving the woman cowering against the cold wall. Feeling the hairs on his neck stand on end, a sensation deep in his gut telling him to leave, Scott ignored his paranoid instincts and ventured forward, stopping only when he reached the lady.

Crouching next to her, noticing her impossibly thin form trembling, stringy hair framing her sunken face, Scott reached out steadily. “Ma’am… are you okay?”

As soon as he got within an inch of her tiny shoulder, a bony hand darted out, gripping Scott’s forearm with shocking strength, dirty nails biting relentlessly into pale flesh, causing rivulets of ruby red blood to surface. Flashing him a crooked grin, Scott felt dread pool into his stomach, pulling his armed hand up to aim at the woman’s face.

“Let g—”

A swift, sudden pain blossomed at the back of Scott’s head, effectively interrupting whatever he planned on saying. The sound of an object making contact with his skull was the only sound left resonating in the alley before Scott’s eyes crossed blearily, vision going black, body falling limply to the ground, gun scattering distantly out of reach.

***

Reyes had been skimming uselessly over a datapad in Tartarus when he got word of the evening’s events, and he says “uselessly” because all he could think about was whether or not to invite Scott to his private room that evening, worrying over whether that was being too pushy or not. After all, Scott was a grown man. He would come visit whenever he was ready. It only bothered Reyes because it was such a rare treat for his lover to dock at Kadara, and Reyes could admit to himself that he had been a bit touch-starved ever since Scott’s last visit. The emails and vid-calls were great and all, but nothing compared to physically being with Scott, whether in a sexual context or not.

But imagine his surprise when he received an alarmed message from Keema that evening.

**K: My friend, no time for pleasantries, so let me be blunt here. There’s commotion at the Port regarding that Pathfinder of yours. His team is asking around about him. Haven’t seen him all night, apparently. Meet me there ASAP. Sounds urgent.**

And that was all it took before Reyes was charging through the slums like a man on a mission, taking the lift impatiently to the Port, cursing and kicking at the damned thing for going so slow. Some part of him knew that he should stay calm, hear the whole story first, investigate as he would any other problem, but his heart was racing and his hands were shaking and his nerves were utterly fried. An endless amount of negative scenarios and pessimistic outcomes ran through his head, and it only fanned the flames of Reyes’ worry as time ticked on. Scott never ventured out into the Badlands alone, especially at night, and his absence at the Port must’ve been unusual if it had his entire team buzzing about it. Reyes hadn’t received any news of Scott entering the Slums, either, knowing that the younger man would have at least sent a message if he had been heading his way. If anything happened to him…

Jolting to a stop, Reyes stumbled as the lift reached its destination, and he exited the constricting box swiftly. Feeling abruptly claustrophobic, as if everything down to his very skin was suddenly too tight, Reyes caught sight of Keema nearby, already waiting for him as some of the _Tempest_ ’s crew scattered around her. Approaching them with purposeful steps, they turned to him, some eyes worried and others accusing.

“What happened?” Reyes spat out, instantly on the defensive.

“Watch your tone,” Cora bit back, glaring vehemently. “SAM informed me that his connection with Scott had been recently severed. Mentioned something about Scott going into an alley to help some woman, then nothing. We’ve swept the entire Port, and what remains of the crew is currently searching the Slums.”

“And we have nothing,” Vetra cut in, frustration clear in her voice.

“We can’t just give up,” Liam retorted, a simmering tension evident amongst the assembled crew.

“I’m not saying that,” Vetra replied, subvocals trembling with indignant anger. “We need to rethink our strategy out here, _obviously_.” Reyes had a feeling that they had already argued more than once before on this, all reason seeming to fly out the window with their centering force missing, but Reyes didn’t have time for the petty arguments. Every second spent quarrelling was another wasted on Scott’s behalf. They were racing against the clock on this one.

“What else did SAM say?” Reyes interrupted, all attention snapping back to him.

“They said that the AI went dark after it relayed its message,” Keema spoke up, clearly not trusting the team to properly explain before another bout of disagreements would start up. “They have their best tech experts, and even some of ours, sorting through the available data as we speak. Whoever has him is using a high-end scrambler that cut off the QEC contact between their ship and the _Hyperion_.”

“Then how are we going to be able to find him?” Reyes snapped, voice lashing out like a whip. Right now, he was hearing more problems than solutions, and he hated how helpless he felt, knowing that they were probably doing all they could. Keema glared at him for the intrusion, and he glared back, unperturbed.

“As I was saying, before you so _rudely_ interrupted… we learned that the scrambler —while more effective than most others— isn’t one hundred percent accurate in its attack. Bits and pieces are still managing to come in from both ends, on the Nexus and on Kadara. Our people are compiling a projected path, based on what tidbits of information are being sent from Scott’s implant to the _Tempest_ ’s SAM terminal. Others are working on re-establishing the SAM connection itself to enlist the AI’s help, which is showing more progress, given the AI’s adaptive capabilities.”

“So, at this point, all we can do, out here, is sit on our hands and wait for them to work their magic,” Cora huffed, evident in her disdain for their useless position. “No one we interrogated witnessed anything, and the Badlands are too large to search without some type of heading.”

“Great,” Reyes gritted out. “Just great.”

***

 “Wake up…” a blurry voice leered through the darkness of Scott’s waking mind. It felt as it Scott’s ears were stuffed full of cotton balls, drunken brain processing the words and their meanings way slower than what was probably deemed normal. Swimming in the dizzying blackness, feeling as if his body was in a terrifying freefall, Scott struggled as best as he could against the fog to regain his senses. The last thing he remembered was that woman in the alley…

 _Reyes,_ he thought drowsily, mind spinning out in clueless circles. _Have to get to Reyes. Promised him that I would come by. Where’s the crew? Did I miss our night out? I promised them time, too. They’re going to kick my ass. Why does my head hurt? It’s wet. And it hurts. Why does my hair feel wet?_

“I said, ‘Get up, you piece of Nexus shit!’” a voice snarled, a cold sensation suddenly encasing Scott, startling his dozing mind into full consciousness as a bucket of freezing, ice-cold water was dumped over his body. Chains rattled around him with his jerky movements, alerting him to the presence of shackles attached to his wrists, ankles, and neck. Shaking his head like a wet dog, a small trace of blood pouring from the knot on the back his head, Scott regretted moving as soon as the nausea sank its teeth into him. Room spinning, Scott glanced up at a fuzzy silhouette, bright lights nearly blinding Ryder while his eyes tried to feebly adjust. Gradually, a tall, buff man came into view, skin tanned and scarred, black hair unkempt and shaggy, one eye a vibrant blue while the other was veiled in grey from severe damage, a tough scar marring the hardened skin from his hairline to his neck.

Scott didn’t recognize the man himself, but he knew the look in his eyes all too well by now. It was the same look that the Roekaar gave him as they fought invading aliens, refusing to watch the angara fall victim to more strangers, already having lost too many friends and family and loved ones to an alien presence. It was the same look that the kett gave him as they fought the pathetic human off, too stupid and miniscule in the grand scheme of things, too inferior to possibly comprehend something beyond his human understanding. It was the same look that so many other exiles continued to give him, refusing to accept some outsider and his pity, needing no one but themselves to rely on. It was a look of disgust. It was a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

“You promised,” another voice hissed, a snake making itself known from the shadows. Scott blinked blearily into the darkness, recognizing the woman from the alleyway fidgeting restlessly near an asari, the human’s thin body spasming so roughly that it contorted her frail frame into unnatural shapes. _“Where is it?”_

The man snorted, squinting critically at the addict, pulling a small vial from his pocket while the woman watched, entranced as a dog would be when presented with a bone. Despite what she did to him, Scott couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the woman, taken advantage of in such a way, being used as a pawn in exchange for her next fix. It was probably Oblivion, and Scott felt his skin crawl, knowing that people like this man still had stores set aside to profit off of others’ suffering. It was despicable.

“Get out of here, sweetheart,” the man leered. “You’ve done your part.” She didn’t need to be told twice, apparently, sprinting off towards the exit at her first chance, gleefully squishing the vial to her flat chest as if it held waters from the Fountain of Youth itself. Scott distantly hoped that she wouldn’t wind up in some ditch somewhere, both despising and pitying her. The scarred man then turned to him, the asari lingering menacingly in the background, both looking at him with judging, disbelieving eyes.

“So,” the man muttered incredulously, “you’re the illustrious Pathfinder, huh?” He snorted, exchanging an amused glance with his partner. “I imagined you’d be taller. Definitely more intimidating. This is downright insulting. You should hear how people speak of you, how easily they believe that some pretty boy like you could be a threat.”

Scott couldn’t help glowering at that, trying to reach beyond the swirling hurricane that was his mind, wondering vaguely why he was so weak, reaching for his biotics to cast at least one lance or singularity field that could occupy his captors and buy him _some_ time. It’s not like his mind was in no position to be making escape plans. As soon as he tried pulling for his powers, however, his implant overloaded, administering a deep electric shock to Scott, settling deep within his bones while he convulsed in searing agony. Body falling to the dirt, twitching to the rhythm of the currents, drool pooling along his chin, Scott could do little more than fall victim to the implant’s ruthless attacks. Laughter and snickers bounced off of the walls around him, echoing mockingly at his pain.

“Think we didn’t account for those biotics and that precious AI of yours?” the asari taunted, grinning wickedly, practically bouncing on her toes from the excitement alone, watching another piece of Nexus scum feel the pain that they dealt with daily. “Think again, sweet cheeks.”

“Oh, and don’t worry,” the man sneered, delivering a brutal kick to Scott’s ribs, steel-toed boots leaving Scott breathlessly wheezing on impact, a crunching sound following the blow. “We have plans for you, darling.”

***

Reyes was an impatient man. And, as such, he was getting really sick and tired of sitting around while their “tech experts” worked endlessly on this, Scott no closer to being found while the seconds ticked on. It was like a countdown was hanging over all of their heads, Death entertaining them with these infuriating mind games, and Reyes was definitely feeling the pressure.

Eventually, he had gotten up and started pacing to burn off his nervous jitters, ignoring it when Drack and Jaal joined their merry little band from their trip to the Slums, announcing unsurprisingly that there was no sign of Scott there. Cora received confirmation that he wasn’t at the outpost, either, and it was like the layers of tension were steadily building on each other with each piece of disheartening news delivered. On the off chance that he was there, Reyes and Keema agreed to have Keema ask, on behalf of the Charlatan, if the Pathfinder had arrived at the Collective base for “business arrangements.” When they replied in negatives, Keema notified the base —and those working the night shift in the field— to be on the lookout for him.

Anxiety skyrocketing at the continuous stream of bad news, Reyes began walking again along their little section of the Port, back and forth, back and forth… Running his hands through his hair, messing it up furiously, he did his best to channel his frustration through his actions. Tugging on his armor, repeatedly checking the bullet count for his sidearm, lacing and unlacing and lacing his boots, again and again… it was all becoming maddening. He couldn’t sit still for the life of him, and his antsy shifting soon started affecting the others.

“Sit your ass down, kid,” Drack drawled. “All this worrying won’t do the boy any good if he turns up and sees you losing your shit.”

“I think I’d rather stand,” Reyes snapped defiantly, hating to be told what to do. Scott’s absence was only making him feel more reckless, fists clenching and unclenching, ready to throttle anything that stood in the way of his single-minded goal. He didn’t even stop to consider the fact that he mouthed off to an ancient krogan, one that could snap him in half like a toothpick if he wanted. He just needed their people to narrow down Scott’s location, and he needed it done ASAP.

Drack chuckled appreciatively. “Look, the kid seems to have a pair after all. Heh, heh… puts some of you other ‘men’ to shame, talking to a krogan like that.” Jaal rolled his eyes, and Liam snorted.

“Yeah, real tough guy, using a sniper in an ‘honorable’ dual. Exactly what I aspire to,” Liam jabbed, watching as Reyes stopped in his tracks, throwing Scott’s squadmate a glare.

“‘No honor among thieves,’” Cora quoted balefully.

“Why do I seem to detect that you do not approve of my methods?” Reyes asked rhetorically, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow, eyeing Scott’s crew members openly.

“What gave it away? The sarcastic tone or the disdain I feel for having to work with somebody like you? How long will it take before you betray him? Before you decide that you’ve wringed as much as you could out of him and leave him for dead? For all we know, _you_ could be the one behind this. I’m definitely not marking you off of the suspect list, Vidal,” Liam retorted protectively. Fuming at the insinuation of being involved in this ordeal, Reyes was ready to give the man a piece of his mind, but Vetra beat him to the punch.

“Cut the shit, guys. Aren't we all suffering enough?”

“It _is_ a reasonable assumption,” Jaal contemplated aloud, eyeing Reyes skeptically. “He did use Ryder in the past—”

“But never physically harmed him,” Keema shot back, her overbearing, take-no-shit tone coming out in full swing. "How about all of you get your self-righteous heads out of your asses and cut my guy some slack? If you don’t see how much they care for each other, deal with your bullshit denial on your own time. Besides, I do wonder… just what would your leader think if he heard you talking about Reyes like this?" When silence ensued, she scoffed, smirking victoriously as she looked away, chin lifted elegantly while she stared off into the distance. “Exactly my point.”

She didn't have to say anymore. Everyone shared awkward, guilty, apologetic glances. Because they all knew, if Ryder heard them grilling Reyes like this, he'd be down their throats within seconds, berating them for trying to take away the one selfish decision he's made since coming to Andromeda, for setting restrictive standards in his life for him, just like everyone else in this godforsaken universe did.

Just like Alec did.

So, no, Keema didn’t need to say anymore. She had already addressed the issue head-on. Just like she always did. Heading over to the crate that she was situated on, puffing at whatever she was smoking today, hearing separate pockets of new conversations start up among the crew, Reyes grinned, his smile somehow coming across as both bitter and grateful.

“Always the one to defend my nonexistent virtue, Miss Dohrgun. I always knew that I liked you for one reason or another,” Reyes taunted, baiting her. Brushing off his silly attempts to get a rise out of her, she eyed him, huffing in amusement at his antics.

“Only just the one? Thought I deserved at least two, Mr. Vidal,” she replied in kind, her expression turning solemn. “Your horrible attempts at friendship aside, I notified your inner circle to have your shuttle sent here, prepped to fly with a full loadout of weapons at your disposal.”

“You’re truly a godsend, Keema,” Reyes sighed in relief, watching the others while he leaned forward, bracing himself against her crate. “Thank you.”

“No problem at all.” Sensing just how unhinged her friend was becoming, Keema reached out with her empty hand, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Hey, we _will_ find him.”

As if those were the magic words needed all evening, everyone in the immediate area was pinged on their omnitools simultaneously, each person falling sharply quiet as the noise cut off any further conversation. While each person hurriedly opened their interfaces, SAM’s voice rang across Cora’s active comm channel in explanation, his tone both reassuring and concerned.

“Connection re-establishment complete, Lieutenant Harper. I have uploaded all current progress gathered by the assembled experts, and I have sorted through the remaining traces of the signal emanating from Scott’s implant. With the lessened workload, I have devoted more time on the analysis itself, and it is now narrowed down from a radius to a precise location. Navpoint has been sent.” SAM paused. “The scrambler is still blocking me from accessing Scott’s physiology. I will be unable to help further.”

But that was all Reyes needed to hear before he was racing towards his shuttle’s location at full speed, breathing heavy, legs pumping, adrenaline racing. They have already wasted enough time, and he wasn’t about to waste anymore. As soon as he entered the shuttle, it was like every other bittersweet chance to fly, coming home and taking command of his vessel, sliding seamlessly into the pilot’s seat. Punching in the coordinates, he once again became Anubis, a man with a history that should have been six centuries dead.

 _But the best damned pilot you could ever get your hands on,_ Reyes thought cockily, checking all systems swiftly before he ascended into the night, enabling both stealth systems and nighttime settings. Flying high and fast, even reckless for his standards, Reyes gunned his shuttle as fast as possible, putting her through her paces while he got closer and closer to the navpoint. To Scott. He just needed to be alive, to hold out a bit longer.

Arriving to the mouth of a cave, sensors scrambling expectedly, Reyes didn’t even stop to wait for backup when his shuttled touched down, the site visibly empty for as far as his eyes could see. Examining the loadout packed for him, Reyes decided on a standard assault rifle and a kett shotgun that Scott had given him. While shotguns weren’t normally Reyes’ style, requiring too close of a distance for his tastes and too much overkill, this had been a gift from Scott. The first weapon he had crafted in Andromeda, and Reyes thought it only symbolic to use it now.

Besides, Reyes wasn’t looking for distance today, he thought to himself, grabbing as much ammo as he could carry. He was out for blood, looking to get his hands a bit dirty.

Boots dropping to the ground with a sound and sturdy _thunk_ , Reyes visually scanned the area for any signs of traps or mines, even kicking a few large rocks ahead experimentally, moving ahead when everything checked out. Gun aimed and ready, he continued to look around, finding the exterior confusingly deserted.

 _Whoever they were must’ve used a small setup,_ Reyes thought, mind running its own analysis of this shit situation on autopilot. _Too many people would’ve drawn attention._

Unless the perpetrators were doing this on their own, for selfish reasons.

Moving further in, Reyes activated his cloaking device, entering the cave when different sounds started to drift to his ears. Once he made it to his final destination, his nav-system vibrating wildly, he remained hidden in the shadows while he surveyed the area, his stomach sinking at the sight that waited for him, cold ice slithering along his spine and rushing through his veins.

In the middle of the room sat Scott, all portable lights trained on him, body adorned cruelly in old-fashioned, metal shackles. Besides an alarmingly large pool of blood, however, Reyes couldn’t see much else, an unknown man kneeling beside Scott, blocking most of the Pathfinder’s body from view. Just as swiftly as the cold had come, however, a Molotov cocktail of emotions seemed to explode within Reyes, hot fire engulfing every single molecule. His entire body seemed to light up with this murderous rage, a dark expression shadowing his face, intense enough to make the Devil himself cower in fear. They were going to pay for this.

Seeing no one else in the cavernous room but an asari, Reyes silently put away his shotgun, taking off his gloves and shoving them in his pockets, pulling out a wickedly sharp Angaran Firaan. The asari was just a few paces from Reyes’ position, bouncing on the balls of her feet to get a better view, a few steps forward and a couple to the right. She was going to be first.

“Ready to give up a name yet, darling?” the man purred. Reyes made sure his cloak would hold, slinking forward.

“Go to hell!” Scott croaked weakly. Reyes winced when the man dealt a strong punch to Scott’s face, having to stop for a split second and breathe before he slipped from cover and fucked this all up. Gritting his teeth, mustering a god-like restraint, he pressed on. Just a couple of more steps…

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” the man taunted, the asari’s maniacal snickering egging him on. Reyes was right behind her now.

“Maybe you should put that mouth to better use,” she suggested.

“Hmm… maybe so,” he said, grabbing Scott’s face roughly with one hand, palming his erection through his jeans with the other, watching while the boy struggled fruitlessly. “I do love my boys with a little fight in them. Maybe I should send a little message to the Charlatan, instead. Fuck his little Pathfinder.” He leaned closer to Scott, warm breath fanning over the young man’s face, causing him to shudder in revulsion. “Just imagine, the Charlatan will either find a dead body or spoiled goods here. Wonder which one he would hate worse.”

Unbeknownst to him, though, the man hadn’t even spared his asari friend a glance, and that was the ideal window of opportunity that Reyes had needed. Covering her mouth with one hand, muffling any attempted noises, Reyes wasted no time in slicing the dagger across her slender throat, violet blood pouring hotly from the wound, sluicing over his skin. Holding her while she weakly struggled, the man occupied by his little speech, Reyes began lowering her body to the ground, setting the soon-lifeless corpse silently down. One down, one to go.

However, Reyes had been so occupied in making sure that the asari didn’t give away his position that he had wasted precious time. When he looked up, the man had managed to straddle Scott’s broken body, a large, meaty hand constricting around Scott’s throat, the fear palpable in the air as a litany of “No, no, no…” wheezed between Scott’s dry, blue lips. Hearing the sound of a zipper being undone, some basic, animalistic part of Reyes’ mind snapped.

“NO!” he roared, dropping the Firaan, handing pulling back instantly in a charged Overload, cloak dissipating in an unprepared shower of sparks around him. Unleashing the ruthless force, the man convulsed against the directed currents, Reyes rushing forward and tackling the huge man off of Ryder. Jumping to his feet, Reyes flipped the man onto his back, yanking him up by his shirt’s neckline.

“You son of a bitch!” Reyes yelled, delivering a sharp punch, vision coated in pure red, blood lust maddening. Pulling the man back up again, Reyes gave him another punch, repeating the process with successive, punishing blows. “You wanted the Charlatan, you piece of shit?!” One punch, two, three… Reyes didn’t know where the blood started or ended, pouring from both his split knuckles and the man’s pummeled face. “Well, you got him!” Reyes spat, beating the man’s face in, and it only took one person —one _word_ — to make him stop, his angel’s voice breaking through like a lone light penetrating the darkest depths of Hell.

“R-reyes,” Scott spluttered hoarsely, Reyes freezing like a deer in headlights, fist raised in the air, positioned to deal another hit. “H-he’s out cold. I…” Scott gave a wet cough, trying to breathe through sore lungs. “I need help.”

Dropping the unconscious man to the ground, Reyes swore aloud, hating himself for forgetting such an important fact in his raging fit. Digging the keys off of the battered man, Reyes strode over to Scott and knelt by his side, finally seeing what had been hidden to him earlier, throat closing up. Laid out before him, Scott was littered in cuts and bruises, clothes shredded to scraps. An alarming amount of purple and black coated his ribs, and half of his face was swollen beyond recognition. His wrists were bleeding, the shackles digging into the fragile skin, and his right leg was broken, the bone piercing through the surface of his calf, the source of the most severe bleeding.

Swallowing thickly, Reyes went to work, unlocking the shackles, one by one, until his lover was free. Cradling Scott’s head in his lap, Reyes tore off a relatively clean strip of his pants, wishing that he had something more sterile, applying it to the open wound, placing as much pressure as he dared to stop the blood flow.

“Scott, stay with me,” Reyes chided, noticing Ryder’s eyes cross slightly at the pressure, a tiny whimper escaping his busted lips. “I know it hurts, cariño, but I need you to stay awake.” Reyes vaguely heard yelling from outside. “You wouldn’t leave me alone, would you?” Scott shook his head minutely. “Good.”

The sound of rushing feet was closer, a flurry of activity suddenly swarming the cave as the _Tempest_ crew arrived, Keema and two angaran men following closely behind them. Giving Reyes a loaded look, Keema barked out orders for her guys to carry the bodies back to the Collective base.

“They’ll know where to take them,” Keema told Reyes, exchanging another weighted glance. He only responded with a nod, both of them knowing that he would handle that situation soon enough.

Right now, though, Scott was his first priority.

Pulling out a foldable stretcher, Drack and Jaal braced themselves while Reyes slid carefully away, both aliens firmly grabbing hold of Scott and lifting him effortlessly. Nevertheless, the movement managed to jostle every injured fragment of his body, and Scott let out an earth-shattering scream, releasing pained grunts while they worked to move him to the stretcher. Lifting him up when his body was secured, they set out, Drack at the front, Jaal at the back, Vetra and Reyes flanking both of Scott’s sides protectively.

“W-where’s Liam and Cora?” Scott wondered, trying to get his mind off of the numbing pain.

“Outside the scrambler’s radius. They’re signaling a spot for the _Tempest_ to land,” Vetra reassured him. “You’re too injured to make it back to Port, so we just have to find some even ground nearby. Med bay is prepped, and Lexi’s having a heart attack as we speak.”

“Just another day, huh?” Scott coughed.

“Yeah, I wish,” Vetra replied softly. “Gil is going to recover the scrambler and shut it down while you’re getting patched up. The outpost and the Port have their own doctors inbound with supplies and equipment to help.”

“VIP treatment?” Scott asked.

“Something like that,” Drack said over his shoulder, making it to the ramp of their ship, Liam and Cora falling in line behind Jaal. “Apparently you’re somebody important, kid.”

“More than he knows,” Reyes whispered in agreement. It obviously didn’t come out as quiet as he wished, because he saw Scott give him a piercing glance from the corner of his eye.

Boarding the ship for the first time, Reyes didn’t even have a moment to admire its beauty entirely, what with their urgency to get Scott taken care of. As soon as they stepped on board, Lexi was leading them to the med bay, disinfecting wounds and checking for any signs of shock or internal bleeding. Once they set Scott up in the med bay, she abruptly kicked them all out so that she could have space to properly think and work. Not even seconds later, other medical personnel were boarding the ship, coolers full of blood and bags full of equipment accompanying them. Taking their orders from Lexi, the flow of people, aliens and humans alike, was entering and exiting the med bay so often that the team had no choice but to shuffle into the crew’s quarters, herded away from the mob.

Hovering by the door, Reyes began chewing on his thumb nail nervously —an annoying habit that he had supposedly broken years ago. He couldn’t help but to watch the chaos unfold before him, feeling as if his whole world had been tipped off balance.

Feeling talons rest on his shoulder, Reyes jumped, startled as he met Vetra’s empathetic gaze.

“He won’t get any better with you standing around like that. Come sit down. They need to work without us hovering over them.” Reyes wanted to argue, to stay at his perch until he knew that Scott would be okay, but he knew that she was right. Damn her and her logic.

Surrendering, he went and sat on one of the room’s few chairs, placing his elbows on his thighs, tented hands pressed firmly against his lips, legs bouncing with nervous anxiety. The others soon settled in as well, finding a spot on either the chairs, the floor, or the beds. Without warning, Peebee slid into the room from the bathroom’s entrance, Gil following close behind. Kallo and Suvi remained at their regular posts, deciding it was best to stay out of the way.

“Scrambler’s located and shut down,” Gil announced, receiving several grateful nods of acknowledgment. “Any word yet?”

“As much as you would expect,” Cora sighed. “It’s like a madhouse out there.”

“Pretty sure that whole disturbance makes a madhouse look tame in comparison,” Peebee snorted, settling next to Jaal on one of the bunks, nudging him lightly, needing a solid presence to anchor her right now.

“Kid’s tough,” Drack droned, but anyone with ears could hear the undercurrent of worry marring his voice. “He’ll pull through.”

“Damn right he will,” Liam echoed. “He’s stubborn and strong, and our doctors are the best at what they do.”

“I’m still surprised that Drack actually called one of the ‘squishies’ tough,” Vetra taunted, mandibles fluttering in her turian equivalent of a smile.

“Heh… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Vetra. The kid’s an honorary krogan, takes after me,” Drack snorted. “Doesn’t count as a human.”

“Sure, old man,” Vetra chuckled. “Sure.”

From then on, Reyes watched curiously as the team’s synergy unfolded before his eyes, finding comfort in one another while they distracted themselves from Scott’s condition. It made Reyes feel awkwardly isolated and alone, their dysfunctional family coming together like pieces of a puzzle, all earlier tension gone, now that Scott was back at home aboard the _Tempest_.

It wasn’t long before Reyes went off into his own thoughts, drifting away from reality momentarily, eventually waking to find a pair of blue eyes trained inquisitively on him. Jaal might not like Kadara much, and he found Scott’s attraction to “bad boys” questionable. Nevertheless, Jaal had not talked to Reyes much, had not gotten to know him in any personal manner like Scott did. Didn’t want to go _that_ far either. But surely, if Scott saw something redeemable in the man, he deserved to have a chance to earn his place among the crew. Clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Which had Jaal thinking…

“Reyes,” Jaal said, the others quieting their numerous conversations to listen in nosily, trying to appear as if they were minding their own business while wondering what their resident angara could possibly have to say to the man. “You are Scott’s… ‘boyfriend,’ are you not?”

Reyes nearly choked on his own spit at the question, sitting up straightly, attempting to figure out the man’s angle. “A juvenile title, but yes. That is one word to describe our relationship.” Yet it didn’t satisfy Reyes at all. He and Scott had this connection that went beyond mere words, and “boyfriends” definitely didn’t carry the weight of what Scott meant to Reyes, and vice versa. “What of it?”

Jaal shifted, seeming to feel all of the scrutiny in the room then, but someone on this ship had to take the first step in building this bridge. Jaal just couldn’t claim that Scott was his brother one day, and then supposedly back it up by ignoring his significant other’s presence in his life. That denial wasn’t fair to any of them, and Scott deserved better after everything he had done for them.

“With Scott out of the field for his upcoming recovery, it seems that we have some downtime planned ahead. _We_ ,” Jaal glared meaningfully at the crew, daring someone to speak against this, “would like to know if you would join us for our movie night on the _Tempest_. I’m sure we could spare a few more days on Kadara, and it’s about time we actually went through with the plan.”

“Really?” Reyes questioned incredulously, glancing at each member of the assembled team. Shockingly, no one objected, all of them seeming to have obtained the same epiphany as Jaal. Whether they liked Reyes Vidal or not, Scott would need his recovery as time to relax and recuperate, even if that meant putting up with his lover. As Vetra told Scott from the beginning, he needed people tearing down obstacles, not putting up more, and what kind of friends would they be if they denied Scott this small comfort?

“Really. If it’s okay with Ryder, it’s fine with us. We’ll just have to watch you around our valuables,” Cora joked. Gil laughed.

“Same could be said about Vetra, though,” he said, winking at her saucily.

“Yes, Gil, talk about the woman that gets all of your parts for you,” Vetra intoned sarcastically, kicking playfully at his foot.

“Especially the woman that supplies the ship with your coffee,” Drack reminded him, grinning widely. “Would be a shame to lose your only energy source, huh, Brodie?”

Gil’s eyes widened slightly at the realization. “You wouldn’t _really_ do that, would you? You know you’re one of my girls, V. Don’t cut a man off from his addiction like that.”

And the banter continued on into the new day, the others making a visible effort to include Reyes until the words were flowing like they normally did. While it wasn’t full acceptance, Reyes acknowledged, it _was_ a start. More than he had before. Besides, these people were just as important to Scott as Reyes was, and Reyes wanted to work his way in, as long as the others were willing to try.

While dawn approached, everyone began to doze off at one point or another, somebody always awake and waiting for news. Reyes had been tempted various times to take a nap, to let his eyes slip close and let sleep sweep him away, but he refused to rest. Not until he knew that Scott was okay.

Eventually, an eternity had passed before Lexi finally entered the room, everyone asleep but Reyes. Scrambling to her tiredly, tripping over someone’s foot along the way, Lexi scowled at his disheveled appearance, especially the blood coating his body.

“Is he okay?” Reyes whispered urgently. Hesitating slightly, Lexi found a clean spot on his armor’s sleeve, grabbing it and tugging him outside of the room, making sure the door closed behind him with a soft _swish_.

“He’s in a stable condition,” she informed him. Reyes released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, nodding frantically in encouragement for her to continue. “We had to do a blood transfusion or two to replenish what he had lost. Several of his ribs are cracked, but nothing too serious. No punctures to the lungs or signs of internal bleeding, so that’s good. We’re still monitoring his oxygen levels to help control and ease his breathing, but he doesn’t appear to need oxygen therapy.  We’re giving him rounds of pain relievers for now, but we might need to add antibiotics to his treatment soon, depending on how his leg progresses. I disinfected the break as much as possible, but open fractures are the most vulnerable to infection.”

“Anything else?” Reyes asked, trying to process the information as much as his sleep-deprived brain possibly could, miniscule slivers barely managing to stick with the distinct lack of adrenaline in his system now, compared to hours before.

“He has a concussion, and I’m watching his brain activity to make sure that the trauma doesn’t run deeper. Also, I’m working to bring the swelling in his face down. Other than ice packs, though, there’s not much to do about that at the moment.”

“What about his SAM connection?”

“Fully reconnected, Mr. Vidal,” SAM chimed in. “With access to Ryder’s physiology, I am now able to assist Dr. T’Perro in her diagnosis and treatment of the Pathfinder.”

“Which means that we have everything under control,” Lexi added.

“Can I see him?” Reyes said, getting straight to the point, looking deliberately at the door that separated him and Ryder, only a few feet away.

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Vidal.” When he started to protest, she held up a hand, continuing sternly. “I understand that this is a hard time, but you need to realize that we all care for Scott here. What he needs right now is rest. And, frankly, so do you.” Before Reyes could say anything more, Lexi addressed SAM. “SAM, please give our guest access to the Pathfinder’s quarters and wardrobe.” She wrinkled her nose at his leather armor and bloodied skin. “Perhaps, the showers, as well?”

“Of course, Dr. T’Perro,” SAM responded, opening the designated doors down the hall. “Pathfinder’s quarters are that way, Mr. Vidal, along with access to Scott’s wardrobe. The bathroom is nearby, across from the Galley.”

Sighing in exhaustion, hair falling into his eyes messily, Reyes huffed at the strands in exasperation. Pouting almost petulantly, he gave a quick “fine” to Lexi, not having the energy to argue with the steadfast asari. She seemed to have everything under control, and —while Reyes didn’t have to like it— he did feel an urge to respect the woman’s decision. She clearly cared for Scott, and she didn’t seem to play around when it came to her patient’s needs, which was perfectly fine in Reyes’ book, especially with Scott’s well-being on the line.

So he followed her orders, stripping out of his disgusting armor, showering really quick, redressing in Scott’s room in a v-neck t-shirt and some pajama pants, sliding into his lover’s bed. Having the scent of Scott wrapped around him, Reyes couldn’t resist finding comfort in the small details, burying his face into Scott’s pillow, inhaling deeply. Cocooning himself in the blankets, Reyes drifted off into an endless slumber, hugging the pillow possessively to his body.

***TORTURE AHEAD***

When Reyes woke up a few hours later, as rested as he possibly could be, he didn’t say much to anyone as he readied himself to depart, knowing that most of the ship was probably still snoozing after recent events. Ignoring the morning sun’s blinding rays, Reyes mentally apologized to Scott, dressing in his sticky leather armor, checking that his weapons were all intact. Restless as he was, he couldn’t stay here, and he hated that he wouldn’t be the first face that Scott woke up to.

But Reyes had left last night’s business unfinished, and that wouldn’t do at all.

Sneaking off the _Tempest_ as quickly as possible, Reyes made a beeline for his shuttle, relieved that no idiot in the Badlands had decided to try Reyes Vidal’s patience for the day in an attempt to take it. Boarding his vessel, he started her up, deactivating nighttime mode and stealth settings. Speaking aloud for his voice-recognizing VI, he instructed it to send a message ahead to his base, informing them to prepare the prisoner for his arrival.

Once Reyes reached the Collective’s hideout, only a select few that knew his true identity were standing guard of the area, leading him to the interrogation room. When he entered, his aforementioned “unfinished business” was sitting right there, body stripped humiliatingly naked and strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. A long, pristine table sat nearby. And, on it, an array of weapons and tools was laid out for Reyes like a feast for a king. Looks like these would be his toys for the morning.

“You know,” Reyes hummed thoughtfully, startling the man with his unexpected entrance, voice clinical and cold, “I normally don’t resort to torturing prisoners. It can be a nasty mess, and many people have valuable intel and treasures that they happen to value less than their life. Prices that they are willing to pay. After last night, however…” Reyes _tsk_ ed at the man, as if he was a naughty schoolboy being scolded by a teacher. “…well, let’s just say that you made things personal for me.”

The man snorted. “Fuck. You.”

Reyes shook his head, looking at the man as if in disappointment. “Silly man, you seem to believe that you’re in power here.” Reyes scoffed, turning away. “How adorable.”

Strolling over to the silver, metallic table, looking over the collection spread before him, Reyes picked up a small, black box designed especially for an occasion like this. Whistling a cheery tune, Reyes walked over, ignoring the man’s defiant curses, setting the box on the ground, nestled to the left side of the chair. Returning to the table, Reyes smirked to himself.

“I’m going to start simple,” Reyes announced, picking up a dagger with a wickedly curved blade, the ridges on the edge sharp and jagged. Teasing his finger along the flat of the blade, back and forth, back and forth, Reyes droned on casually, as if he was discussing the weather with a co-worker. “I’m going to begin by carving into you. I might cut some skin off here and there, a finger or nine or ten probably won’t do much damage, might even start in on the toes…”

“You’re bluffing,” the man spat behind him.

Brushing him off like an insistent fly, Reyes turned his face halfway, drawling lazily over his shoulder, “Am I?”

Finished with his teasing, Reyes smoothly turned on his heel and approached the man, smiling maniacally as he expertly twirled the knife in his hand, the man’s eyes following it the whole time, sweat pouring from his temple nervously.

“I need a name. Let’s start with yours first,” Reyes purred, pressing the tip of his dagger into the man’s thigh, gradually adding more pressure until the blade pierced the skin, blood beading at the entrance wound. The man trembled as if an earthquake was rattling his form, shaking his head back and forth desperately, spewing out hateful curses.

Sighing judgmentally, Reyes practically sang out his next words, jokingly light and airy, masking the dark impatience that swirled beneath. The dagger continued in its unstoppable path, sliding through muscle and flesh and skin alike, going unbearably slow so that the man felt _everything._ “Give me your name.”

And it continued like that, Reyes prodding the man for intel in this little game of theirs, living up to his earlier promises through precise cuts and slices, alternating between that and his fists for now, repaying every injury that Scott had received and then some. When he finally received a name, Aaron Jackson, he moved on to the next part. It was therapeutic, in a way, to know the name of the man that he would coldheartedly kill on Scott’s behalf.

“Now,” Reyes chimed, voice ringing throughout the room, picking up a Krogan hammer and a pair of pliers off of the table. Pocketing the pliers for now, Reyes openly admired the hammer, swinging it playfully. Watching Reyes’ approach, the guy gritted his teeth, fingers and toes missing, slices and stabs oozing rivers of blood, skin peeling off of his cheek and chest in various patches, exposing what laid underneath. “I have your name, so I need to know who gave you the order to kidnap the Pathfinder.” Silence. “Going once, twice…” Nothing. “Okay then, have it your way.”

Pulling the hammer back, positioning his feet as if he was playing a game of baseball back on Earth, Reyes used the momentum of his whole body, swinging the hammer around and right into Jackson’s kneecap with all the strength he could muster. A sickening crack filled the room, drowned by the man’s howling screams as his knee cap crumbled under the force.

“Have to admire your loyalty, Aaron,” Reyes sneered, “but I’m not stopping until I get a name.” Without warning, he swung at the other knee, shattering that one as well. Seeing that the man was ready to pass out, Reyes went and grabbed a syringe off the table, jabbing the needle viciously into the man’s neck, pushing the plunger down, injecting him with a healthy mixture of stimulants to keep him going for awhile. “Now, now, we don’t need you falling asleep, Aaron. We’re just getting started.”

“Go to hell,” Jackson panted. Reyes threw the syringe aside, sliding the pliers out of his pocket.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Reyes mocked, copying Jackson’s words to Scott from hours ago, grinning evilly. Grabbing the man’s nose in a tight grip, Jackson instantly recognized the tactic and held out for as long as he could, gasping for breath only when he couldn’t hold it in any longer. As soon as he inhaled, Reyes saw his opening and immediately had the pliers in Jackson’s mouth, grabbing hold of a tooth and yanking with all of his might, hand sliding down to grip the man’s jaw in a painful grip.

Pulling until the “permanent” tooth was forcibly yanked out by its roots, Jackson tried his best to shake his head free again, blood pooling into his mouth once Reyes reaped his reward, gums swelling. Holding the tooth up to the lights, roughly releasing the man’s jaw, Reyes contemplated this gem critically, turning it this way and that. Moving towards the table, he threw it and the pliers on the “used” tray, ready to start the next round, picking up a beautifully honed butcher knife.

Hearing the man whine and whimper behind him, resorting to begging for a quick death, Reyes stilled himself against the worthless pleas, his mind only registering the words as one would a voice underwater. This _man_ —this _filth_ — had the utter gall to _touch_ Scott, to try his hand at causing him pain. _He_ didn’t stop when Scott begged him to, and Reyes would be damned if he gave this monster any mercy. At that moment, he would’ve had better luck asking Satan for such a thing.

“You have him back. Please, just let me go, let me go…” Jackson sniveled pathetically.

“You. Touched. Him.” Reyes said, shoving away from the table, nearly tipping it over in his haste. He strolled over to Aaron and grabbed his flaccid cock in a bone-crushing grip, grinning when the man keened in agony, writhing against his restraints. Waving the knife in his right hand, Reyes positioned it purposefully over Jackson’s member, intentions as clear as day. “Let me simplify things for that tiny brain of yours, my friend. I’m done having my fun, so you have one last chance to squeal like the disgusting pig you are. Or I promise, on everything you hold dear, I will cut your dick off and shove it down your windpipe, and that will be the last pain you will ever know before you suffocate on it.” Reyes took a deep breath, muscles tensing. “Now, who gave the order?"

"Kaetus!" He yelled, weeping with snot and sweat and blood coating his body.

"Kaetus is imprisoned," Reyes snapped, hand rearing back, blade glinting murderously in the light. "Last chance."

"I swear! Someone f-from the Collective. T-there was a messenger. Someone who had access to him!" He roared, thrashing in his bindings. "P-please, please... I'm telling the truth."

Reyes contemplated the man for a tense second before nodding to himself. "I believe you." Just as the man's shoulders slumped in relief, Reyes brought the blade down, over and over again, hacking through the man's dick like it was nothing, chopping it completely off, the noises emanating from Jackson utterly inhuman. "Too bad you're not leaving here alive." Picking up the member, Reyes did exactly as he had described, shoving it down the man’s throat until he was gagging around it.

Going to the table one last time, Reyes put the butcher knife away and picked up a jug of water and a set of seemingly harmless wires, a pair of small metal clamps on one end, a plug on the other. Returning to the squirming man, Reyes doused him in the entire container of water, throwing it carelessly across the room when it emptied. He inserted the plug into the little black box from the beginning of the session, the other end clamping on to the metal chair that Jackson was situated in. Moving away to a dry corner of the room, Reyes pulled a remote from his back pocket, turning the voltage dial up as high as it would go. Flipping the switch for the power, Reyes burrowed in his corner to watch the show, the man before him seizing while he was being fried in his own skin.

Pulling out a handkerchief, Reyes shook it out patiently, using it to wipe the splattered blood from his exposed skin, admiring his masterpiece one last time before the man fell limp, foamy drool sliding out of his open mouth, eyes staring unseeingly at the floor.

Shutting off the device, Reyes turned on his heel, marching out of the room and barking out orders at the guards to dispose of the body.

After all, Reyes had a rat to find.

***END OF TORTURE***

Hours after he had awoken, late into the afternoon, Scott was shifting restlessly in his bed, wanting nothing more than to get out of it already. He wasn’t one for sitting around. And, with Reyes MIA, he was tempted to drag himself and his stupid cast all over Kadara.

Around sunset, the man in question arrived, freshly showered and clean, expression closed-off as he entered Scott’s quarters, where Lexi knew Scott would be more agreeable to the bed rest and round-the-clock monitoring. Portable machines beeped all around him, and Ryder’s eyes had begun to droop tiredly, instantly snapping open when Reyes entered.

“Where were you?” Scott demanded, not caring at the moment if he sounded clingy or not. After Reyes had given him shit for nearly passing out yesterday, begging him to “stay with him,” one would think that your boyfriend/rescuer would be a bit more present when you actually fucking woke up.

“I was busy,” Reyes sighed.

“Keeping secrets again?” Scott spat, watching Reyes wince at the low blow, that wound in their relationship still fresh and tender, but Scott didn’t care. He had been sorely tempted to break up with Reyes after the whole Charlatan thing, but some romantic (foolish) part of him felt like this _thing_ between them was worth it. Reyes, with all his smooth talking and his cheesy one-liners and his infuriating complexities, had possibly ruined Ryder for anybody else, and that was what unnerved Scott so much. Was this even healthy, to fall so fast and so hard for someone like this?

“Thought I only had to share the big stuff?” Reyes retorted, crossing his arms defensively, this situation not playing out how he planned. Scott felt his blood boil, stress rising. He didn’t need this bullshit right now.

“Well, if that’s how this is going to go, then get out,” Scott snarled, light blue eyes freezing over like Voeld’s oceans, tears building. One would think that he had shot Reyes, how the older man flinched back from the words, gritting his teeth.

“Scott—”

“I said ‘Get out!’” Scott screamed, chunking a pillow at Reyes as hard as he could at the moment (which wasn’t very hard at all), missing entirely.

 _The Charlatan will either find a dead body or spoiled goods here._ Those words kept playing in his head like a broken record, Scott wishing he could curl in on himself. He could still feel that body over him, that hot breath against his face, the spiking fear when the man pawed at his body, bile rising in his throat. He could remember that hopeless second when he realized that no one was coming for him, accepting the fact that he was about to be used by the man, over and over until Scott was broken on the inside and out, no matter how much he struggled or fought. But he had been ready to struggle. Down to the last second of his life. _Wonder which one he would hate worse._

Suddenly, Scott had another reason for wanting Reyes to leave, shame flooding over him. Even knowing it wasn’t his fault, an irrational layer of filth clung to Scott like a second skin, making his skin crawl all over.

“P-please,” Scott whispered, crumbling the blankets in his fists, eyes darting around unseeingly. “Just—” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he broke down, sobs wracking his body, making it harder to breathe.

Reyes had never moved somewhere that fast in his entire life. Hesitating on whether to hug Scott or to give him space, Scott made the decision for him, throwing his arms around Reyes’ shoulders, ignoring the bite of his IVs pulling at his skin. Clinging to each other as if they were the only thing keeping the other man alive, Scott bawled hysterically into Reyes’ shoulder, bodies shaking under the force of his sobs.

“Pathfinder, your vitals are approaching a concerning level. Should I inform Dr. T’Perro?” SAM questioned urgently, sounding quite confused as to how he should handle the situation.

Scott muttered a quick “no” in between his sniffles, focusing on Reyes’ grounding presence, forcing himself to breathe through his sore ribs. Pulling back, Reyes gazed deep into his lover’s eyes, and he started to breathe audibly, setting the pace. Placing Scott’s hand over his chest, Reyes whispered, “Breathe with me.” Scott nodded weakly, maintaining eye contact as they worked to slow Scott’s unsteady breathing together. When he had settled down, they both remained like that, so many words left unsaid between them.

“That man that captured you is dead,” Reyes told him, deciding that he should speak first, explain himself as Scott commanded. “That was where I was all morning. I even received some interesting intel for Keema and I to follow up on.”

Reading between the lines, Scott heard what Reyes wasn’t telling him outright. Rubbing his hand down his face, Scott sighed. “Reyes…”

“I’m not apologizing for it, Scott,” Reyes interrupted, his dangerous gaze issuing a cold challenge. “I won’t ever apologize for that. He _hurt_ you. What would you have done if you were in my shoes, if you walked in on that type of scene, seeing one of the few most important people in your life, all broken and bloody and about to be rap—?” Reyes couldn’t even finish the question, refusing to let his mind go there. Feeling his emotions come to a boiling point, bubbling unsteadily over, Reyes ferociously blinked back the tears, croaking out hoarsely, “So, no, I don’t regret torturing that sick son of a bitch for one second, even if it meant stooping to his level.”

“Reyes,” Scott whispered again, brokenly this time, his lover’s pain evidently affecting him just as much.

 _So selfless,_ Reyes thought undeservedly, stroking feather-light over the bad side of Scott’s face with golden brown fingertips. Looking at Scott’s face and body, even swollen and battered like this, Reyes was certain of one thing. “You’re still the most beautiful man in this universe,” Reyes whispered, cupping Scott’s face gently in his hands, leaning forward at an awkward angle to rest his forehead against Scott’s, hoping that the younger man felt the weight that Reyes’ words carried. “Inside and out.”

Scott gave a self-deprecating chuckle, feeling like anything other than beautiful at the moment. “Liar.”

“I’ll just have to prove it to you. I—” Breathing deeply, Reyes ran his hand through his already-sloppy hair, composure starting to unravel like a ball of yarn as the true weight of the past twenty four hours began to soak in. He averted his eyes, to try and put up what feeble barrier he could, but Reyes knew the futile attempt was too late. Scott had somehow wormed his way so slyly into Reyes’ heart, tore down layers upon layers of perfectly built walls, and became the one thing that both empowered and weakened Reyes beyond what should have been humanly possible. And all of that had almost been taken away from him. “I could have _lost_ you, Scott.”

“But you didn’t,” Scott murmured. “We both know that I run that risk almost every day in Heleus.” Reyes glowered at the reminder.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?!” Reyes snapped, pushing back from the bed to pace anxiously around the room, hating how uncontrolled he felt, swearing in English and Spanish alike. “This was too close Scott. If their equipment had worked better, if _I_ had arrived a second later…” Reyes stopped, bracing himself against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to regain control of his own breathing.

For a moment, it was pure silence, the room thick and heavy with tension at the abrupt shift in conversation, Reyes’ words tainting the atmosphere with their unwanted implications.

“Hey…” Scott whispered, small and uncertain, fidgeting with his blanket again nervously. His heart was aching from seeing his lover so unnerved, so shaken, but Scott was at a loss as to what to do to make this situation better. Knowing that there simply was no way to make anything about this better, though, he figured that the least he could do was offer some comfort, and hopefully receive some in return. “None of that. I’m here. _We’re_ here, Reyes.”

Watching as Reyes pushed away from the wall, returning sluggishly back to Scott’s side, it was as if every ounce energy had been sapped away from him, leaving him open and raw and vulnerable. Settling by Scott’s side again, Reyes took Scott’s closest hand in between his two, pressing it to his lips while his teary, bloodshot eyes remained ensnared in Scott’s gaze.

“I believe _I_ should be the one comforting _you_ , not the other way around,” Reyes murmured apologetically. Scott smiled softly, bleakly.

“Your feelings matter, too,” Scott reassured him. “Last time that I checked, a relationship involves more than one person. This whole situation has been tough on both of us.”

Reyes chuckled bitterly, “That’s the understatement of the century.” Eyes softening, he looked at Scott worriedly, concern leaking into his voice. “Do you… Do you want to talk about it?” Noting the younger man’s wince, Reyes momentarily considered pressing, but he knew that he had to be patient in this. What had happened wasn’t something that could just be fixed in one conversation, no matter how much Reyes wished it was. “You don’t have to answer now, mi ángel. Just know that I’m here for you. If you wish to talk.”

This time, Scott’s smile was genuine, wondering how he could’ve gotten a man that —flaws and all— was absolutely perfect in his eyes. True love was supposedly a thing of fairytales, sugarcoated by heroic quests and unrealistic standards. They made love seem so effortless, so easy… but Scott liked to think that he was unravelling the truth behind the myth. Because it was the challenging moments like these that tested a relationship, and Scott couldn’t have been surer of anything —or any _one_ — in his life than in that moment.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scott replied. “Just not _now_. I—I don’t think I’m quite ready yet.”

“That’s fine, Scott. I'll be here whenever you _are_  ready.”

“Can you just…” Scott paused, biting his bottom lip and looking up from under his eyelashes reservedly. “Can you stay with me?”

Feeling his face heat up with a blush, Reyes ignored the swarming sensations that were invading his stomach, smiling supportively as he replied in earnest.

“For you, mi amor, always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Days since Reyes Vidal was a Good Man: 0
> 
> But he's mostly a bad man towards bad people, so...
> 
> And Keema's a good friend and BAMF. No one can convince me otherwise.
> 
> P.S. Don't ask me where all this uncomfortably graphic torture stuff came from. I honestly don't know. I just let my stories write themselves. I'm going along for the ride.


End file.
